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Once a month we send out an e-newsletter, giving behind the scenes insight into the production of the magazine, sneak previews of upcoming issues as well as interactive features.Little fish
To many it might seem hard and lonely and often downright dangerous but life at sea is everything this adventurous fisherwoman wants. Words: Brenda Webb; Photos: Tessa Chrisp.
THE TANG OF DIESEL hangs in the air as an old kauri fishing boat strains on its salt-encrusted mooring lines in Picton Harbour. Circling seagulls screech in anticipation as a lovely, fresh-faced woman clad in torn jeans and blood-splattered gumboots fillets fish, a red and green parrot perched on her shoulder. Thirty-two-year-old Caroline Anderson laughs easily and swaps friendly banter with her customers who are here to buy fish, freshly hooked and netted from the sparkling waters of the Marlborough Sounds.
The gutsy fisherwoman, with a degree in aquaculture and a background of working in remote areas which include Antarctic waters, is trying to make a living selling fish direct from her 60-year-old fishing boat Wairoa. She looks totally at ease in this nautical environment. That’s not surprising as the boat she so casually moves around doubles as her home.
But two days ago it was a different story. Walls of green water cascaded over the bow of Wairoa as Mop overcame her nerves to round the notorious Cape Jackson in atrocious, windy conditions that have been a feature of the Marlborough summer. (The name Mop came about when her mum first saw a bundle with a mass of thick black hair and her immediate reaction was “what a mop you are”. The name has stuck.) Mop’s current ticket allows her to fish only in the northern Marlborough Sounds and that means rounding the treacherous stretch of water where the Russian cruise liner Mikhail Lermontov struck rocks. “I’ve had frights for sure,” she says. “Cape Jackson is my nemesis – I still get butterflies going round there even on calm days, but there have been few of those this season. It’s no problem for the big boats but with the persistent winds we’ve had this summer it’s just been too tough for me.”
Such conditions have forced Wairoa into port and sent Mop back to the drawing-board to study for her Inshore Launch Master ticket to enable her to work the more sheltered southern Marlborough fishing grounds of Cloudy Bay and Port Underwood. She’s determined to succeed in an industry in which she is a rarity and is frustrated that the weather is holding her back.
Her Little Fish Company is a basic, low-key operation that provides a subsistence lifestyle. Mop takes one crew member and line-fishes for blue cod and hapuka and sets nets for butterfish, moki and terakihi. All nets are set from her 3.5m tender and collected after dark, so conditions need to be near perfect. She fishes three days a week and on Saturday mornings sells the catch direct to the public and to local restaurants.
“I know I’m not going to get rich fishing but I’m not doing it for the money – it’s for the lifestyle,” she says. “I’m happy if I make enough to pay the crew, maintain the boat, cover costs such as ice, fuel, bait and stores and have enough left over to be able to go out again next week.” Money is simply not a priority in her life. “When you look at me you can tell that money doesn’t mean that much to me. Sure, I like the finer things in life but I see them as luxuries, not necessities, and I don’t need them to make me happy. I never really was the sports car kind of girl.”
Mop has slotted into the Picton fishing scene with barely a ripple, despite her initial apprehension at being one of the few women in the industry. The other fishermen don’t see her as a threat (“I’m way too small to bother them”) and she’s earned their support, respect and friendship. If she’s not on board Wairoa she’s more than likely to be found on a neighbouring boat chatting to a fellow seafarer, swapping fishing yarns or garnering some advice.
Mop felt drawn to the sea from an early age and recalls family holidays in the Marlborough Sounds and Golden Bay exploring rock pools and setting nets with her father Pete. “It’s always been there, this fascination with the sea,” she says. “I’m a bit of an adventurer and was never going to do anything normal. I would far rather be wet and cold and tired and on the sea than warm and cosy in an office. Wairoa is home; it just feels right being here and it’s where I want to be.”
That’s why you’ll find her in the wheel-house with a battered mug of coffee brewed on her two-burner stove rather than at a waterfront café drinking a flat white. But she’s happiest anchored in an isolated bay of the Marlborough Sounds, indulging in another passion – painting birds on driftwood gathered from the windswept shoreline.
Months spent working on fishing boats in the southern ocean have taught Mop to enjoy her own company and at times that’s meant digging deep. “I learnt a lot about myself working on the fishing boats, especially as I was often the only woman aboard,” she says.
She credits skipper John Bennett and first mate Carl Fry from the auto-liner San Aspiring for motivating her and making her believe in herself. She worked with them for five months as a fisheries observer in South Georgia and the Sandwich Islands. “They provided inspiration and instilled the belief that I could be skippering a fishing boat too if I really wanted to,” she says. “We spent hours in the wheel-house dodging the weather and icebergs or hauling Patagonian toothfish from the icy depths before the orca and sperm whales stripped the line of the catch. I learnt so much from them as they were willing to pass on their advice and vast knowledge of boats and seafaring.”
Mop’s parents Peter and Chick also encouraged her to chase her dreams. “They’ve always told us not to be scared to follow our hearts – that happiness is more important than monetary things.” She says they have been inspiring in instilling basic values and the importance of working hard. “Neither of them is scared of hard work. I’ve seen Mum working three or four jobs to keep the bills paid and put us through school – she’s never been too proud to work.”
Younger brother George keeps Mop focused. He is a pilot and flies on geophysical survey planes in remote West African countries including Niger, Liberia and Mali. “I’m envious of him but not jealous – I’d like to join him one day. I keep telling him he needs a camp mother.” The two are quite different in nature – George is highly social and needs lots of people around him whereas Mop relies on a few special friends and is mostly happy with her own company. “Fishing is isolating anyway; it suits me.”
Her move into full-time fishing came quite by chance. She bought Wairoa in 2005 as a “live aboard” and started out by helping her then boyfriend sell his catch in Wellington. “One weekend we were due to head across Cook Strait but a huge southerly came up,” she says. “We had this boatload of fish and had no choice but to try and sell it in Picton. We put a sign on the road saying ‘Fresh fish on the wharf’ and we sold out in two hours. I realized there was a market here to sell fresh fish straight from the boat.” Cheery-faced Mop, her brave boat Wairoa and cheeky and noisy parrot Starboard have been regular features at Picton Wharf ever since.
Mop’s long-term aim is to target small fish such as sardines, anchovies, yellow-eyed mullet and garfish but she’s yet to persuade her customers of their value. “They eat them in the Mediterranean but New Zealanders are still doubtful – they see them as bait fish. I need to educate people – that’s my aim.”
Whatever track Mop follows, you can be sure it will be on the sea: the one place where she feels truly at home.
